The Human Creature Is Alone In His

The Human Creature Is Alone In His Carapace. Poetry Is A Strong Way Out.

Colours Are What Drive Me Most Strongly.

If I Lie Down On My Bed I Must Be Here, But If I Lie Down In My Grave I May Be Elsewhere.

Truth Is Far And Flat, And Fancy Is Fiery; And Truth Is Cold, And People Feel The Cold, And They May Wrap Themselves Against It In Fancies That Are Fiery, But They Should Not Call Them Facts; And, Generally, Poets Do Not; They Are Shrewd, They Feel The Cold, Too, But They Know A Hawk From A Handsaw, A Fact From A Fancy, As None Knows Better.

Nothing Is More Wistful Than The Scent Of Lilac, Nor More Robust Than Its Woody Stalk, For We Must Remember That It Is A Tree As Well As A Flower, We Must Try Not To Forget This.